Enchantment
by thewriterme03
Summary: all icooj


I hate storms. Not naturally, I just hate storms. It's raining, the sky a dark charcoal color, growing darker by the minute. The lightening flashes, illuminating everything with its eerie golden glow, then it slowly fades away to be replaced with a crack of thunder. The rain patters softly on my windowpane, reminding me of a poem my younger sister wrote. It is a soothing, gentle sound. I'm not afraid of the rain if that's what you're thinking. It's the wet, wild, dark and stormy nights that I'm afraid of. It's silly to be afraid of a little thunder and lightening at my age (I'm 15) but I believe I have good reason to. The night my father died when I was five was a stormy night, dark and cold, the wind howling. It is as clear as glass in my memory. The night my father's life ended, mine began. This is my story. The story of the white queen.

Chapter 1. The story always begins with once upon a time doesn't it? Always, once upon a time….. and so on, a princess, a damsel in distress…. Aways once upon a time. My story however is different. This is my story, from end to beginning, and this is how it starts : I stared out the window of my room. The rain grew louder, annoyingly louder. I smiled to myself as my eleven year old sister, Raven came into sight. Her long dark hair was wet and plastered to her face, the skin quivering with water droplets. Her once beautiful black gown is soaked through, the hem muddied and stained, bits of moor grass stuck to it. Raven is a wild little creature. She spends her days roaming the wet moors and marshes, combing every square inch of the forest. Rain or shine, I can always count on her to be outside. Sometimes. The only place indoors, Raven actually enjoys is her tower. It is located in the far back of the palace, and in there she writes her poems. Marvelous poems, full of dreams and wishes and yearning. Wonderful poems like I have never seen the like. Raven's sole desire is to become a great poet. I doubt it. Not her ability to write poems of course, I doubt Raven herself. She doesn't seem to be the kind of a girl to be a famous poet. She seems more, well this sounds rude, but she seems more built to be evil. After all, she runs on the darkest stormiest of nights and does whatever she does in the forest in the middle of the night. She wears black and is a bit of a recluse always hiding and lurking somewhere. She even has a rat named Bone. (I'm joking about the rat.) But mother says that Raven is destined for great things, in her exact words, "All matters of evil" but perhaps that is wishful thinking on my mother's part because SHE is full-blooded evil. Maybe. Sometimes I'm not so sure. But she is a bad queen, I can see that much and she is constantly running around screaming "OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" sending the unfortunate person on the other end of the conversation jumping up and running wildly away in the most frightful manner. She hasn't beheaded anyone yet I think, but you know, you can never be too careful. My mother's pride and joy is my older sister, Elisabeth the Third. She is 17 well almost, and copies everything my mom does. Yes, that includes running around and shouting "Off with her/his head!" Basically, it's like having two mothers. Two evil mothers. Things can get pretty hectic and crazy around here. Sometimes I find myself shouting right along with Mother and Elisabeth. They are crazy mad. But, I wonder what if they are the normal ones, and I am the crazy one? Quite a puzzle, and seriously;

one, I don't think I'll be answering anytime soon! The clearing of a throat jolts me suddenly out of my thoughts. I look up to see a nervous man in a red and white uniform, and red dyed wig, courtesy of my mother; standing there. He twists his hands awkwardly, probably wondering when I will shout "Off with your head!" "Uh, dinner is served?" His cheeks are red, almost the color of his wig. "So is apparent." I retort. "How long has it been ready?" "F, Fifteen minutes, my, my lady." He stutters, poor simpleton. "Oh, dang it all!" I slam my palm into my forehead and leap up very unladylike. The man bows and hurries away, I can hear the heel of his shoes clicking. I rush around, making a vain attempt at fixing my hair, most doubtedly making it messier and smoothing my dress which is as wrinkled as an old granny (pardon the comparison). "Great," I mutter. "Just great." I run down the stairs, the same thing Raven does every day, every evening 24 7. It feels good. Darned good. No wonder my little sister does it. I am sure to get a scolding and maybe worse for being fifteen, now sixteen minute late for supper. Mother values good manners, and proper ladylike behavior; maybe, I think more then rubies and silk gowns. Two footmen with red wigs and uniforms like the other one bow and usher me in. My heart drops down in the depths of despair. (Maybe that's too dramatic.) Okay, my heart drops down in the dumps. (Better? I'll just keep on with my narrative.) Mother, Elisabeth and even Raven with her wet, muddied face are all seated at dinner cutting into roast herbed chicken with dainty gold forks. Mother raises her perfectly arched eyebrows as I enter. I slide into the seat beside Raven, and raise my less perfect eyebrows in a perfect impersonation of mother. "You're 17 minutes and 12 seconds late, Verdena." I make a face. I hate it when Mother treats me like I'm seven. I mean, come ON! I'm only fifteen. "17 minutes and 13 seconds now, mother." I stab my chicken with my knife, clutching the dinnerware tightly, as if holding a weapon. "Please put down that knife, Dena." I know that calm, quiet voice. Uh oh. I'm in for it. The long two-hour lecture of lady like, proper and princess I hear EVERY day. I better get comfy, it's not like I have anything better to do then listen to mother go on and on about what is proper and what is not. I bet a pound that yelling and screaming about beheading something isn't proper, but then Mother's the queen and no one really cares about manners as long as you're a good queen, but Mother is not. She reigns with fear and terror-and oops! I'm a prattler! Well, mother surprised me by not giving the proper princess-ball gown blah-blah talk. Instead she out down her glass and stared levelly across the table at me. "This has been the fourth time you have been late, Verdena." "So, I have noticed. I'm very sorry, Mother." Mother raised her eyebrows again. "Sorry's are not enough, Dena. It is the actions that count, not the apoglies." I looked down at the floor. I wasn't exactly sorry, I mean is being just late for dinner so bad? But if it inflicted pain in Mother, I guess I was sorry. I glanced sideways; Raven was covering her mouth in a vain attempt to smother her laughter, her shoulders shaking. I looked at Elisabeth; she was tossing her curls and muttering to herself. Suddenly something snapped inside my chest. I jumped up, knocking over my chair. "You're all crazy!" I screamed. "All of you." I turned and ran out of the room, past the footmen, catching sight of their shocked faces. I raced up to my room, my heart hammering. I wasn't going to wait and see what my punishment was THIS time.

Chapter 2. I collapsed onto my bed, breathing hard. What a idiotic thing to do. What on earth possessed me to say such a thing? Oh, I'd been wanting to say that for years. I'd just never had the nerve to actually say it out loud! I'd thought inside my mind, but say it? Mother must be furious! The rain pours, thumping louder and louder. I have a gut feeling that mother's punishment this time is going to be much, much worse then normal. Maybe, even though I'm terrified of storms, I'll go and hide outside until Mother get's worried. Maybe then, she'll be so worried she'll forget about punishing me. I know that it is a silly and immature approach but right now, I'm feeling silly and immature, (and scared of being punished) I tugged of my red and white embroidered gown. I'm not running outside in the rain fully decked out and my many "proper" layers. I slipped out of dozens of petticoats, under shirts, under skirts, and starched petticoats. Is it really nesscary to have so many things under a dress? Finally, I'm only clothed in a thin, light and airy linen shift. I feel free, delsciously free. DRINK ME TO POSOIN ALICE, QUEEN'S IDEA, (DIDN'T WORK)


End file.
